


If My Yesterday is a Disgrace, Tell Me That You'll Still Recall My Name

by Trytoescapeit



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Christmas Fluff, M/M, a lot of coincidences occur, and niall doesnt even talk sorry about that, harry just wants to kiss louis, um there are some scenes that talk about money problems
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-21
Updated: 2016-12-21
Packaged: 2018-09-10 18:24:34
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,519
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8928223
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Trytoescapeit/pseuds/Trytoescapeit
Summary: The boy, right now in front of Harry, most definitely has familiar blue eyes and the same thin lips. Those lips. Small, bitten things that are so close to splitting. All he can think of is a chorus of his name. Louis, Louis, Louis, and the name means nothing to him until the boy looks up.ORHarry and Louis are childhood friends for only a year when Louis moves out of town. Fast forward to the future and Harry is a used-to-be rich kid who cut off his family's inheritance to build a life of his own and Louis owns the small cafe that's hiring. Harry spends three days trying to get Louis to remember him (because he never forgot)





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [princeandcheekbones](https://archiveofourown.org/users/princeandcheekbones/gifts).



> this prompt was really nice to write and i hope i did it justice.  
> alrighty, please leave comments for feedback and kudos if you liked it

It's in a dusty, dingy coffee shop when Harry feels nostalgia in the form of blue eyes and brown feathery hair. The thing is, Harry's done a lot to move out of his small sheltered town-- took his step father's name _Styles_ in exchange for his birth father's name. It's not that he's ashamed of where he came from, it's just that he's got a yearning for independence and carrying a last name like _Twist_ comes off too strong when there's so much money invested in it.

  
His later memories of childhood are filled with champagne spilled on white carpets because of his stumbling chubby legs, his father looking disappointed as his mother _tsks_ somewhere in the corner. His earliest ones have just this one blue eyed boy with chubby hands that pull at his curls and kiss him on the cheek before taking grass from his lawn and sprinkling it on him no matter how many times he'd bicker about allergies.

They're filled with a little boy with dainty wrists and a sly smirk giving him an airplane pendant before running home before his parents could catch him across the street without permission. Many times, Harry would sit on his porch just waiting for the boy to come back no matter how long it took to be reunited.  
  
The boy, right now in front of Harry, most definitely has familiar blue eyes and the same thin lips. Those lips. Small, bitten things that are so close to splitting. All he can think of is a chorus of his name. _Louis, Louis, Louis,_ and the name means nothing to him until the boy looks up.

"Erm, yeah. That's me, mate. What can I help you with?" Louis asks, getting up from where he'd been on his knees soaking in spilled coffee with a paper towel. Harry's cheeks heat up with the embarrassment of being caught saying his name out loud. Louis' cheekbones are more pronounced now; nothing at all like the chubby-cheeked boy Harry chased around town before becoming out of breath.

"Huh?" Harry asks, losing all eloquence as Louis raises his eyebrow like he's waiting for something. A part of Harry is disappointed that he's been forgotten so easily but then he remembers how that was the plan all along.

"You said _'Louis'_ didn't you?" Louis glances around the nearly empty shop. "I'm pretty sure I'm the only Louis around here. Would you like something?"

 Around the counter are bright fairy lights of blue, green, and red. When Louis hauls himself up and stands behind it, the colors bounce off his face all vibrant and pretty, washing most of his chin in dark red.

 "Yeah. I'm sorry." He shakes his head as if to clear it from his memories, but they stick to him like the honey Louis had thrown up when they were smaller after declaring he was never really a fan of it anyway. He had forced Harry to grab a cup of milk from inside to wash the taste out of his mouth. "It's just that I saw a flier on the front window saying there's a job opening and I was wondering if I could apply?"

Louis looks confused for a split second before he's shouting at the top of his lungs like the cafe isn't small enough, "Liam! Get in here right now!" He offers Harry a smile as a man around their age walks in through a wooden door behind the counter. He's got brown eyes and an unturned frown. His hair, short.

 "S'not necessary to yell out for me. I swear you think you own a more spacious coffee shop." Liam responds. He's staring at Louis like he's annoyed, like he was in the middle of doing something important. Harry coughs a little in his palm, startles Liam by his presence, he smiles.

"Oh, hello! I'm sorry Louis isn't very good at his job, may I help you with something?"

 "Um--" Harry begins not really wanting to repeat himself only to be interrupted.

"No, actually- I'm sorry what's your name?"

"M'name's Harry."

"Harry." Louis says it like he's trying it out on his tongue for the first time in years and Harry oddly hopes it's true, "No, actually. Harry here is responding to a supposed job offer that mysteriously made its way onto our windows. You wouldn't happen to know anything about that, would you?"

Harry looks down at his shoes; he feels like he's intervening or something. The floors are surprisingly clean. All but the stain of whatever Louis was trying to soak up when he walked in. It's the only dark patch on the wooden floors but it looks like home with the portraits of famous artists strung on the walls. On each circular table where he assumes customers take their to-stay drinks, are mistletoes hanging above, and reindeer antimacassar covering the chairs.

 "I've already told you Zayn's situation. He's got to work at his father's shop indefinitely and an extra pair of hands while he's gone wouldn't hurt," Liam reasons, but he sounds like he's not telling the whole truth, and Louis scoffs.

"You guys need to make the fuck up. Are you really that petty over the breakup that you're replacing his position this fast?"

 "Louis, it's been two weeks," he argues back, shifting to look back at Harry dragging his attention from scrutinizing his own shoes. "Anyway, hello. I'm Liam Payne and this is Louis Tomlinson. We don't really wanna waste paper on files so are you comfortable with just answering a few questions so we can feel you out?"

 Harry nods enthusiastically. "Of course. But like... here? Or should I come back at a better time?"  
  
Liam makes a _pssh_ sound like Harry sounds absurd.

"Nah, right now is just fine. There're barely any customers so it works well. So let's start. You are how old?" Louis asks. His face is still a canvas of different colors.  
  
"Twenty-two by February first," he answers, subconsciously leaning a little closer. Every time a customer leaves, a gust of chill bursts through the door; he wonders how Louis can just be wearing a thin cardigan with a Christmas tree print.  
  
Louis offers a small smile. "You're pretty young, then, lad."  
  
"Shut up, Louis. You're like two years older." he looks back at Harry, "do you have any experience working in this field of work? Anything to contribute?"

 "I mean, I've never exclusively worked with herbs but, like, I used to work in a bakery. I can contribute some of my old customers’ favorites pastries." Just then, a customer barges in leaving the door open just a second longer than is necessary. The woman's nose is pink to the tip and following her are two smaller children with thick coats and boots up to their knees. Brown coily hair peeks out of their knitted hats; their eyes wide as they take in the place.

"Mommy," one little girl shrieks pointing to the back wall, "look it's a chris-mass tree!" The woman walks towards the counter as Harry moves aside. The bright lights bounce off her face prettily too, looking darker against her dark complexion.

 "It's pronounced 'Christmas' sweetie and yes, I see it, it looks very lovely," she smiles at the two behind the counter, "do you have Yorkshire tea? And a peppermint tea for the little ones?"

 "Coming right up," Liam shows off his brightest smile as he turns around to get started on the drinks. As the little girl inspects the tree, the little boy looks up at Louis shyly.

"Hey little man, d'you want something else?" He fake whispers while the mother smiles fondly. She's got a hold on the boy's wrist like she's afraid he'll take off and Harry wonders how many times he's done just that for his mother to get sick of it.

"Do you have chocolate chip cookies for my tea?"

"What do you add when you're asking for something, Aban?" The boy blushes a little when his mother intervenes but tags on a babyish please. Harry smiles to himself before turing his attention back to the little girl who's playing with the golden ornaments on the small tree. She plucks a transparent bulb with a Santa figurine inside off before sashaying over to him. She can't be more than five years old Harry thinks as she plants herself right in front of him, their toes touching.

"This," she says excitedly in a heavy accent Harry's not quite familiar with, "is Santa Clause. He has me on his good list because I've been very good, you know?"

Harry nods and bends down so he's not looming over her, "oh really? Good for you, do you know what you want for Christmas?"

"Mhm. I want my mommy to stay home on Christmas Eve instead of working. " She says working like 'woa-king' and Harry's smile widens even more.

"I think your mom would really like that, too. But if it doesn't happen this holiday, it's only because she wants what's best for you." 

Their conversation ends then when a loud groan erupts from no other than Aban. "What do you mean you don't have any kind of cookies?"

His mother hushes him quickly and forces him to apologize before their orders are placed on the countertop. The little girl steps over to Louis, pushing her brother a little as she does. Her chubby fingers hold up the ornament she took but Louis shrugs his shoulders instead of taking it from her.

"How about you keep it for my penance of not having cookies and the next time you come in, I'll have some waiting for you."

The little girl thanks him profusely before walking hand-in-hand with her brother and mother. When their silhouettes disappear in the darkened streets, Harry turns back to them.

"Alright Styles, you get the job if only to provide those adorable children with all your fancy pastries, and I mean they better be magnificent," as an after thought he adds, "Also, how do you feel about Secret Santa?"

 

***

 

So Secret Santa is a big tradition between all the workers in Art Bean Café.

Harry thought it was only Liam and Louis working in the small shop but different shifts call for different people hence why there's a blonde man named Niall who is running his fingers through Harry's hair albeit with a purpose.

 "You don't have to be afraid to tell me, you know? Come on, just one thing. It's not cheating if we haven't drawn out the names yet."

"But if you get my name, you'll already know what to get me," Harry reasons, "and there's no fun in that."

Niall rolls his eyes and extracts his hand like he's offended. On his left is a girl named Danielle who's been cutting up pieces of paper after scribbling the names of everyone on them. She's not as quiet as she looks with how she's been cursing at Louis to "quit touching the stove before you burn this place down" all night.

When she's done cutting them up and places it in a Christmas sock everyone sits around the table with anticipation. Harry oddly feels like a little kid again.

"Okay, so the person who buys the best meaningful gift wins this year's ultimate surprise. It doesn't matter how much money you spend, only if the person you're buying for is happy. Everyday you have to better up yourself until Christmas Eve comes along and then we reveal ourselves. At the end, you have to say the significance of the gift you bought and make an argument as to why you thought it was a good gift for your partner, got it?" Danielle drones on like she's done this a thousand times, Harry wonders how long they've all known each other.

He feels out of place with not knowing anyone very well so he fully intends to sneak about, asking around for everyone's interest. They've all been friends for quite sometime with the way they're so comfortable around each other and conversation flows easily. A small part of him wants to draw Louis if only to see if he can jog the older boy's memory.

The sock is placed on the round table and one by one everyone sticks their hand into it and withdrawals a tiny paper hiding it from view. When Harry gets his, he shifts his eyes to see if anyone is giving theirs away. Immediately his eyes land on Louis who's trying to cheat by looking over Danielle's shoulder.

" _Hey_ ," Harry drags the word, "that's cheating, Lou." Louis startles at the nickname like he's remembering the vowel on a much younger Harry’s tongue but then he's smiling back at Harry before Harry can decipher.

"Oh, so now you're an expert on Secret Santa. Anyway, innocent until proven guilty."

Danielle looks unimpressed when she surveys Louis, "honestly, can you just not cheat on this for one year? If you cheat, you keep none of your presents, I'm not kidding."

She turns to everyone else when she says, in a louder voice, "Now everyone may check their paper!"

At her permission, Harry flips over the looseleaf paper that reads in neat print handwriting 'Louis'. He smiles to himself with ideas already flooding his mind. Louis almost looks constipated with how much concentration he's in to not be tempted to lean over and read everyone's slip. Liam tells them all its time to put it back in the sock before Louis faints or something and that the contest starts exactly tomorrow along with Harry's new position baking different pastries. He has two days to get it right, not counting Christmas Eve.

They all do as they're told before going back to the front room and cleaning the area before lock up. He honestly didn't notice how late it had gotten with the sky already dark and streets nearly deserted with the exception of a few taxis zooming by.

Harry busies himself with washing the dishes in the small sink, the cuffs of his sleeves getting wet. He can see Liam bringing the chairs to the top of the tables while Louis does a poor job of sweeping beneath them. Danielle waves goodbye at them since its way past her shift and she's got classes in the morning. Her hoodie flys off her head as she walks away, her silhouette disappearing as she walks further.

"Harry, why don't you just roll up your sleeves? You're shirt's getting all wet, mate," Louis tells him from across the room where he's crouched down with a dustpan.

"M'already done but I'll remember to next time," he says as he turns off the tap. The sleeves are fully drenched now and he's dreading walking home like this but he still reaches under the counter to retrieve his coat.

He's excited for the next day as he hugs everyone goodbye; his brain only short-circuits for a few seconds when he finds Louis is about three inches smaller than him. Their bodies fit well together, too, Harry thinks as he tears himself away from him.  
 

It's a lot darker by the time Harry walks outside with the street lamps the only source of light. The sidewalk is covered in either piles of snow or black ice making the walk even more difficult. His apartment isn't too far away which is why seeing the job offer in the window was a godsend, but the university he goes to is three bus stops away. He almost slips on ice two times before he reaches the metal door and presses in the key to let himself in.

 

The lobby is empty except for an older lady who's checking her mail by the mailboxes, she holds her mail to her chest when she notices Harry walking towards the elevator. He offers a small smile to seem less like a threat before the elevator dings in front of him  
 

He lives on the fourth floor with a neighbor who smokes cigarettes like it's not toxic and plays music like the walls are thicker than what they are. Harry only moved in last week when he returned from exploring the states and he's already learned so much about his neighbors.

A woman who lives across the hall from him, Elena, comes home with a different guy almost every evening but she's also got a regular man who visits every night. He's the only one who kisses her goodnight (he's secretly rooting for them to get their shit together and date already but he's being patient).

To his left is a man named Julian and he opened his door from the very first knock Harry did on his first arrival. He's got a pet turtle that's bigger than his head and he lets it crawl around the house, Harry thinks that's rather sweet. Julian never confirmed Harry's suspicions mainly because Harry never asked, but he's almost certain that his neighbor's lonely. They exchanged numbers right away and Julian responds right away, even took him out to lunch his second day.

Harry loves getting to know his neighbors and they seem to like his company, all except his neighbor to the left. He doesn't know the man's name only that he's got brown eyes and tattoos that are fascinating like a pair of lips below his collarbones and wings on either side of them. When he'd tried to knock on the door and get to know him, the music playing on the inside just got louder and louder until he'd given up.

Harry twists the key in the key hole and pushes the door in. It's even colder in his house for some reason, the windows shut but fog covering them. He shucks off his coat and sets it on the chair while he snags his laptop from the table and sits on the couch.

His couch is an old lumpy thing with springs that have long since given up so he sinks all the way under until his butt bone is hurting pressed against the wood.

He's got a paper due in the morning and he really needs to finish it. Any type of math has always been hard on him, is the thing, so an essay on why the discovery of imaginary numbers is important is really the most boring thing he'll ever write about. Sitting this one out and not turning it in is tempting, but he failed his last exam.

Harry cracks his knuckles, pulls up Microsoft Office and starts to type. The first paragraph is a repetition of Rafael Bombelli furthered this idea... and imaginary numbers are complex numbers. He feels drowsier every time he pulls up another tab that by the fifth paragraph he has to delete every word because of typos and his ideas are all jumbled up and he really doesn't have the energy to disentangle them.

While Harry's three fourths into writing about how math is a language and mathematicians speak it fluently, loud music starts to play. It shakes his keys on the drawer from how loud it is, ears splitting with the proximity. His eyes hurt from staring at his screen for so long but he still manages to catch the time that reads dreadfully four in the morning.

 He groans loudly before stalking over to his door and wrenching it open. In a few more steps, Harry is planted at the rowdy neighbor's doorstep and is knocking politely even though every cell in his body is protesting him to just knock the damn thing down.

It's Green Day's boulevard of broken dreams that's blasting tonight. If it was any other night, Harry would welcome the nostalgia of listening to this song in his early teen years when he thought the ultimate rebellion was wearing sweaters with a hole for his thumbs and discovering eyeliner.

Tonight is not that night, unfortunately, so he starts banging on the door when he doesn't hear anyone coming up.

The music stops suddenly before the door is being open to reveal the same neighbor who's been ignoring him since his arrival. He really is beautiful, there are traces of something that looks like mascara streaking down his cheeks like he'd been crying and his face is blotchy.

"Hey, listen I don't mean to interrupt but can't you use headphones or something? I like Green Day just as much as the next emo, but I've got a paper due in a few hours and work first thing in the morning," Harry tells him, his voice sounds gravelly from disuse or maybe from when he cried for a few minutes when he thought his paper had deleted itself.

"Maybe you should have better time management," the man snaps at him with a glare. He's got his arms crossed like he's got the right to be mad at Harry.

 "Or maybe you should find better coping skills," he bites back before turning away towards his door, "have some fucking consideration for the other people living here, mate."

When he gets back to his house and locks the door, he feels really guilty. Obviously the man had been crying and just wanted to listen to music. He figures he'll just apologize the next time he sees him, probably slip some cd in his mailbox to cheer him up or something.

 

 

<•>

 

Harry wakes up with a sore back and an even sorer butt from falling asleep on the couch. When he cracks it, it relieves only some of the pain, dry drool on his cheek that he scratches off with disgust. His eyes feel heavy when he opens them but nothing like how his mouth feels cottony. Lazily, he gets up and checks the time that reads seven o'clock, he can almost cry.

He'd finished his research paper but forgot to send it, the document staring at him menacingly.

"Fuck," he mumbles as he sends it quickly to his professor. Harry nearly trips himself when he's typed an apology for being a little late (prays that his professor will accept it); discards his clothes as he makes it to his room. The hamper is filled to the top and the only clean clothes hanging up in his closet are his fall clothes. He grabs his skinny jeans with the knees cut out and a thin white t-shirt. He puts four pairs of socks to compensate and slips on his heavy boots afterwards. His coat comes on last, along with his keys that he nearly forgets in his rush to leave.

Today's his first full day of work and he's already fifteen minutes late with his shift having been started at seven. The snow's mostly slush now, dirty from all the people who've walked in it. It's freezing too, he feels himself becoming sick. He'd forgotten to grab his hat and scarf leaving himself over exposed. 

When Harry's right around the corner from the coffee shop, snow flurries begin to fall all around him. He's reminded of the one birthday he'd spent with Louis. Both wrapped in heavy coats that they thought were absolutely hideous on each other.

Harry's mom had told him to stop playing with "the Tomlinson's kid" because he wasn't like them. At the time, Harry thought it was because Louis was too bright for their dull town but now he's reminded of the nights he'd looked out his window to see Louis' father walk out leaving a boy and his mother. He's reminded of the day they left the two months later because of a sticker on the door that read "For Sale".

 Before Louis left though, they snuck to Harry's backyard on Christmas Eve when it was snowing heavily. Louis' cheeks were cold and he wasn't wearing a hat so Harry had given him his mom's grey beanie that fit a little loose on the younger boy. He was grateful though, kissed Harry on the cheek. 

When he opens the door of the shop, a gust of chilly air comes with him and standing behind the counter is a sleepy Louis wearing a big green sweater that engulfs his hands. He's holding a small tea cup, steam curling around his face making them pink and pretty. Louis' so pretty.

"Good morning, Sleeping Beauty," Louis mumbles over a gulp of tea. He winces when it burns his tongue like he wasn't expecting it. They blink slowly at each other until Harry says good morning back, shucks off his coat as he walks over to the counter.

"How was your night?" He asks as he washes his hands in the sink and ignores the goosebumps that have risen on his arm.

"It was alright," Louis tells him, shifts so he's looking at him, "I couldn't sleep halfway through though because my friend, Zayn, was going through one of his episodes so I had to calm him down a bit.   
  
Harry frowns a little, "Is he alright?"

"Yeah, I mean he'll live. Him and Liam are kind of fighting right now because Liam wanted Zayn to meet his family but Zayn never really had a good family so he's not really a family person so they broke up temporarily. They'll get their heads out of their asses soon enough."

"I hope they do," Harry comments while he grabs dough and starts to beat it so he can thin it out. Louis hands him the flour when he asks but not without spilling some (a lot) on the floor. It sticks to their shoes and leaves footprints on the floor but Louis doesn't look upset, just shrugs it off.

"Anyway, you look like shite, how was your night?"

"M'fine, just the uni life getting to me I suppose." Flour gets stuck under his nails when he picks up the dough to mix it in. He tries to wipe his hands on the apron but it's dirty too so that'd defeat the purpose.

"You know wearing clothes like that in this weather'll give you pneumonia," Louis tells him before pushing on his forearms to start brewing the water. The Christmas lights are already on, a little dim because of the natural light filtering in through the windows but it still plays across Louis’ face like they belong there. Like they've been waiting all night to do this and Harry can relate. 

"Should we make our peppermint teas come with candy-canes for the people to use to stir it? It's seasonal, right?"

 Harry thinks about how cozy Louis would look sipping a tea cup with a candy cane swimming in it and nods.

 "Definitely seasonal. We should sell gingerbread too," he adds as an afterthought. He cuts the dough in the shape of Christmas trees and pops it in the oven, heat enveloping his face.

 "I don't think I've ever tried gingerbread," Louis tells. He hoists himself up so he can sit on the table top, his feet dangling against Harry's thighs.

 "I can run to the market and get some," Harry asks although he's already reaching for his coat. "Can you take out the cookies in ten minutes if I'm not back before then?"

 Louis' legs have somehow tangled themselves in the ropes of the lights, his exposed ankles lit with the different hues. He kicks his legs back and forth before leaning over and clutching the lapels of Harry's coat, fingers loosely bunching up the material.

 "So, you come to work late wearing a thin shirt and a soaked coat you're willing to put on just to run to the shops?" He asks like he can't believe it, that it's outrageous for Harry to be doing his job.

 "I can manage," Harry tells him before moving Louis' fingers to zip up. The coat sticks to him in off places; the small of his back, around his neck, the wrists. He only inwardly cringed as he steps over the plug that's connected to the wall and towards the door.

 It's not been very long since Harry was out but it's dropped to twenty degrees and the snow is swirling around him giving him the urge to click his heels together, see if it'll carry him home. New York is much busier than the small town he lived in, it only took him a week to find this out when he moved here but today seems different. Black figures, hunched over to protect their faces from the frost, move around him like a system. They don't even look up to make sure they don't bump together, they just don't.

 Harry slips in seamlessly and lets the bundle of people carry him across the street where the automatic doors open for him at once. The supermarket is much cooler than outside but he can still see the puffs he breathes out so he refrains from unzipping. He stands there in the entrance wondering where gingerbread cookies might be when the red packaging catches his eye. He quickly grabs the cookies with his numb fingers and goes to the very long line behind a woman clutching a little boy's hand who's seconds away of dying from boredom. They lock eyes, Harry giving him an awkward smile because the boy's in that age where he understands catching a stranger's eyes is just weird. The boy rolls his eyes back, turns around and starts yelling.

 "Let me go," he screeches from the top of his lungs, starts to yank his wrist free. The woman doesn't even flinch, no one does really as he looks around the store. Everyone seems completely unfazed and Harry's faintly wondering how many times this boy has pulled this for everyone to be so… desensitized.

 "Why did you bring me, let me go," he complains louder in his prepubescent high pitched voice that has Harry grinding his teeth. He breaks his eyes away from the scene in front of him when the line moves up.

 Harry had left the cafe for the cookies but also to see if anything will remind him of Louis for his Secret Santa gift. He would have checked last night but his night wasn't very open for errands. Just when he's about to call it off, his eyes catch on an airplane pendant. It looks exactly like the one Louis had given to him all those years ago on a hot day sitting under Louis' porch for shade. He asks the lady behind him to hold his place in line and dashes to the jewelry section since he's next to be rung up. The lady smiles at him when he returns, cheap metal in his hand and cookies in the other.

 Harry lays them all out in front of him as the man behind the counter scans them, tells him that it'll be thirteen dollars and change in total.

 After, when he's got a plastic bag in hand and a necklace wrapped in newspaper with the name 'Louis' scrawled on it in the cashier guy's handwriting, Harry pulls up his hoody and barges into the chilly cafe at once.

Louis' bent down near the oven, taking the cookies out. He curses lightly as he puts it on the table, sticks his pinky in his mouth.

"S' why we don't use the oven much, we always got burned," Louis tells him when he sees Harry walking over.

"What did you make when you did use it?" Harry strips back to his white shirt, shoving the rest of his clothes under the counter. Louis' tapping his fingernails against the table and it's supposed to be really annoying but somehow it's intriguing instead. He's not got much fingernails, just little stubs so the noise isn't unbearably loud.

"Just, like, warm butter bread and sometimes Zayn made his brownies."

Harry walks around Louis' figure, takes the spatula to take them off the pan before the bottom gets burned.

"They had gingerbread in the market," Harry tells him, curses under his breath when one of the cookies breaks in half. The plate is almost stacked to the top when he's done and Louis' small hand comes to reach for the broken cookie. He shoves it in his mouth, eyes going so wide that Harry can see little sparks of green and grey.

 “These are really good,” he says through a stuffed mouth. His smile is infectious, Harry can't help himself when he lets out a small chuckle and ducks his head.

 “Thanks, I'll be in the back to say hey to everyone else and put these cookies down.” With that, he leaves Louis standing there reaching for another.

 

<•>

 

So it goes like this. Louis is gone almost all day running errands that no one questions him about. Danielle washes the dishes, every dish Harry uses no matter how many times he tells her she really doesn't have to. She's too persistent and holds her ground though so he results to using few dishes because he will not be responsible for scuffed nails and calloused hands.

 Apparently, Liam’s job is to just mingle with customers who sit at the tables. They all look like they'd much rather be alone but Liam doesn't catch that vibe and they're all too polite to just come out and say it so Harry tells him he needs help in the kitchen. That was obviously mistake number one.

 “You dropped all the eggs,” Harry points out crazily. He can't help it, his whole job is based on the little fragile shells and they're currently on the floor all cracked and sad.

 “You bumped into me so technically,” he doesn't finish that thought and although Harry doesn't know why, he's kind of grateful.

 “I wasn't even near you, Liam. How do you even clean this up? Should we use a broom or a mop?” Harry tried to remember what he and Gemma would do when they tried to hatch eggs by sitting on them but he can't seem to find those distant memories so he results to taking paper towels and falling to his knees.

 As he drifts down though, the pendant hidden in a box falls out of his pocket. Before he can snatch it up, Liam is bending down and grabbing the box with a small smile carved on his face.

 “What is it?” He asks as he reads the box, hmms at the handwriting. “Your handwriting is pretty shit, mate.”

 “S’not my handwriting,” he defends, “it's the cash registers.”

 " _Employee,_ Harry,” Liam corrects him distractedly, “a cash register doesn't have any kind of penmanship.”

 “D’you mind if you give it back,” Harry asks him with his hand splayed across his neck nervously. Has he gone and ruined their tradition? What if Liam tells Louis?

“What's in it?” He asks again in some variation, shakes it real hard like a kid on Christmas trying to peak and see what they've got.

“It's just a necklace, don't tell him,” he mumbles as he pries the box from Liam. Liam looks up at him confused with a kind-of-there smile that makes Harry nervous.

“Lou doesn't wear jewelry,” he says before he's turning around.

“Well I guess it's too late to exchange it,” Harry lies, “anyway, now that you know who I got, it's only fair to tell me yours.”

 “Not a chance,” Liam chuckles, “maybe you should hide your presents better.”

With that, he walks away with Harry having to clean the spilt eggs. All he can hear is Liam humming like he knows something Harry wouldn't want him to and he hopes it's just the Secret Santa thing and nothing else. He doesn't ask Liam what he knows and that's probably mistake number two, he thinks.

 

<•>

 

Louis doesn't like the gift very much. At first, he stares at the wrapping like it's offended him and then he looks up at all of them with an arched eyebrow.

 “I would comment on the bad handwriting but I'm afraid someone’s already teased you for it throughout your life so there's that,” he says to the four of them (it's just Danielle, Niall, Liam, and Harry).

 “Maybe they wrote with their left hand to try to disguise it,” Danielle offers, making a face at the badly wrapped gift, “why don't you open it?”

Louis takes the thing and rips through the paper before he opens it, his face scrunching up in confusion.

 “A… necklace?” Harry searches his face earnestly for something that would show that he remembers something. A niggling memory, but nothing changes on his face just plain confusion.

 “It's really cute,” Liam offers, “Lou, isn't it really cute?”

 “I mean, yeah, it's kind of cute but copper always gives me rashes so it's not like I can wear it. Looks kind of familiar.” Louis looks at it for a beat longer and Harry swears he sees Louis’ eyes flicker to his for a second like he's trying to tie this object to him but can't seem to find the equation.

 Harry smiles at him awkwardly, stays behind as everyone's clearing out. It leaves just the two, Harry and Louis, and they just look at each other like they're expecting something to happen. At least Harry is and it finally does come but not what he wanted when Louis says: “What happened to all the eggs?”

 

<•>

 

After the incident, Liam gets weary around him. He mentions Harry's name to Louis all the time and even tacks his last name with it like he's trying to see if Louis reacts some type of way.

 Harry has also been trying to ignore Liam because of obvious reasons. It's like they're playing the longest game of _hide and seek_ mixed with _twenty one questions_ when Liam starts to ask about Harry's person life.

 "Where'd you grow up, Harry?” He asks one day while Liam's manning the register and Harry is putting pastries together. And because Harry's not a fast liar who can string lies together on the spot, he says, “Cheshire.”

 “Mhm,” Liam affirms as he pulls out his phone, “one hour and forty six minutes apart, neat.” Harry's just about to ask between what but Liam shows him his phone and all he needs to see is Doncaster to Cheshire to make him look up at Liam wide-eyed.

 “What're you getting at?” Harry asks as evenly as he can.

 “It's just that I think it's interesting that Louis moved to Cheshire when he was what, like, four?”

 "Your phrasing it like you're asking me,” he mumbles back, “people can live a short distance apart and still never meet.”

 “Only, you looked kind of familiar so I asked Louis’ mom for some old pictures of Louis from childhood. Told her it was for his birthday and I can across these gritty pictures of a baby Louis wrapping his arms around a curly haired boy.”

 “Liam, there’re so many curly haired boys in Britain it's ridiculous,” he argues, rolls his eyes to get his point across. He puts the cookie tray in the oven and kind of wants to throw Liam’s phone in along with them for his apparent need to be some sort of Sherlock Holmes.

 “Yeah but not a lot with the name Harry,” he smiles and pulls up his text chat with _Jay-Z(omlinson)_ where there's a picture of baby Louis and Harry smiling at the Polaroid.

 “Louis actually let you save him mom’s number under that?”

 “No, he always complains but that's not the point. Why're you stalking my best friend?”

 Harry scoffs at that because how can he not scoff at something so absurd? He drags his fingernail underneath his teeth until he hears the nail give out and starts to tear. It hurts a little but he needs to do something with his mouth and hands. The Christmas lights aren't on yet which makes the room look dull from it's usual brightness. He wonders if Louis’ the one in charge of them and that's why they're not lit, because he's not here.

 "I honestly didn't even know I'd ever see him again. I just moved out of my parents and wanted to get a job close to home. It's not like I planned my whole life on bumping into him again.”

 "Alright. But I'm watching you.”

 In conclusion, being left alone with Liam was obviously mistake number three, or the final mistake because now someone knows more than Harry ever wanted.

 

<•>

 

There're only two more days until Christmas which means two days to jog Louis' memory through the Secret Santa competition. So naturally, the second gift Harry gets for Louis is a jar of honey. He wraps the bear-shaped item in Christmas wrapping and leaves it on the till where Louis'll probably go to first when he walks into the coffee shop. He printed out Louis' name this time and goes to the back of the shop to see Liam looking at him suspiciously from where's hunched back bare hands in the oven.

 "What're you doing?" Harry asks with a raised brow. Liam squints his eyes and bites his bottom lip in concentration.

 "I think," Liam stands up from where he was crouched down, closing the oven as he goes, "the more important question is, what are you doing in the back room?"

 Harry walks to the cabinets and takes out the flour Liam bought a while ago. He takes out all the ingredients he would think they need to start on the pastries before the shop opens. When he walked in, it was only five o'clock in the morning so he probably has two hours to get some things done.

 "I have to bake, that's- that's what you'll be paying me for." His words become more high-pitched at the end like it was a question.

 Before Liam can look any more guilty, Louis bursts through the door in a thick blue coat that brings out his eyes more than anything Harry's ever seen. His checks are pink and a frown mixed with confusion is placed on his face. When he tugs his hat off and unzips his coat, Harry notices the present he'd left out is in his hand unwrapped.

 "So there I was, right," Louis' voice quivers from the cold, "walking over to put my shit underneath the cash register when I see this really neatly wrapped present with none other but my name on it so I tear it off and can you believe what I find?"

 Liam's smiling, looks almost intrigued so Harry matches his enthusiasm when he asks, "Oh, what was it?"

 Louis lifts the single bottle of honey from his small hand, Harry thinks there are traces of light blue nail polish on his nails, and says in a deadpanned voice "a bottle of honey. I don't even like fucking honey."

 "So weird," Harry shakes his head, "d'you think its symbolic or something? Maybe stands for you being sweet, maybe an inside joke." He looks over Louis' face waiting for any sign of understanding but none comes, only contemplation.

 Liam looks at Harry and snorts, "He's not sweet, mate. But you wouldn't know that because you've only met him a couple days ago, haven't you?”

 From the past couple of days, Harry had found out that Liam isn't very good at keeping secrets. He over compensated and ends up saying things like, “Maybe Harry’s your Secret Santa?”

 Harry schools his face to not give anything away as he squints back, "If I've just met him the other day, why would I buy him a present that symbolizes a personality I've not yet got to know or an inside joke if we don't know each other that very well?"

 Louis makes a sound of agreement, "Styles' has got a point. Anyway, whoever's my secret Santa needs to step up their game because I've got no use for this nastiness."

 He turns back to get the teas ready and unlock the shop with a 'Now Open' sign displayed. When Liam leaves too, Harry goes to the oven to see if Liam's left anything inside. On the rack, is a small rectangular box that probably fits some type of jewelry. He smiles to himself.

 

<•>

 

Harry gets a new pair of reindeer socks one day and a phone charger that glows red the next. Everyone laughs at his enthusiasm for Christmas themed socks but he knows if they got them, they'd act the same way. In fact, he takes off his boots and wears them all day to show off to the customers and make his secret Santa feel like they've done a good thing because they definitely have.

 He finishes making a heap of pastries giving him some time to stand with Louis by the register and he can't seem to stop talking about his favorite Christmas movies.

 “Oh come on, Louis,” he says in disbelief, “you had to have seen _Heat Miser_ at least once in your life.”

 Louis laughs a little and pulls his beanie further down his head to keep his ears a little warmer. His neck is still exposed and red, Harry kind of wants to wrap his scarf around him.

 “I've no idea what you're talking about. I remember the _Charlie Brown_ specials and _Grandma Got Run Over by a Reindeer_ , though,” his voice lithe, makes Harry want to wrap himself in it if voices can be blankets.

 “Uhg, everyone knows those. What about _The Year Without Santa Clause_?”

 “Yeah,” Louis nods excitedly, “I watched that movie with my sisters all the time when we were younger. Right before watching _Elf_ or something.”

 “When I was little, I tried eating what Bud ate in that scene for breakfast and got the worst stomach ache. Spitting out my guts all night,” Harry smiles at the memory as Louis laughs. It's such a contagious laugh.

 “Well I'll have you know, I tried it too and only vomited once so,” he sticks his tongue in lieu of finishing his sentence. His lips are really thin, Harry's never noticed before the pretty little pink tint to them. He can't seem to stop staring at the way they're chapped from the cold and how he's wearing chapstick so all he'd have to do is kiss him to make sure they don't crack. He doesn't, obviously he doesn’t.

 It's night outside so there aren't a lot of people left in Art Bean Café. It's just Louis and Harry left with a man sitting in the corner tapping away at his keyboard. The man looks so tired with bags underneath his eyes and a coffee clutched in his hold. Harry faintly wonders when that paper’s due, why he waited so long to type it.

 “Grimshaw,” Louis calls from where he’s unplugging the lights. The colors leave all at once and Harry kind of feels bad that they won't see him until tomorrow. “If I give you the key so you can finish up and close behind yourself, promise to not steal cookie dough?”

 The man makes a sound of agreement before mumbling, “that happened one time and I bought you another one.”

“Catch,” Louis warns before he tosses the keys at the poor man. Grimshaw smiles at him when catches them like he was expecting them to fall between his fingers.

“Thanks, Louis. Have a goodnight,” he waves at Harry before turning back to his computer and resuming the keys smashing rapidly.

“Alright, which direction is your place?” Louis asks him when they've bundled up and are standing outside the café. Harry points right and Louis starts walking in that direction.

“You don't have to walk me home,” Harry tells him politely, “you're probably tired and it's pretty late.”

“I'm going this way anyway and I've got all weekend to sleep,” he says as he pulls his hoodie up. The fur of the hood slips in his mouth, Louis makes a face as he tries to flick it away with his tongue.

“Ew, that's not going to work,” Harry tells him and runs his finger down his cheek to take the fur with him. He ignores the subtle shiver that goes through Louis because it's probably from the cold.

“Thanks,” Louis says politely, dragging his feet through the dark snow. It's turned to slush and ice, seeps through his boots to make his socks soggy.

“No problem.”

 Louis’ jeans are rolled up a little to show his thin looking ankles. His head is bowed but he still seems to step in all the puddles they pass. It splashes all over his exposed skin, Harry cringes. 

Louis walks too fast for him to catch up, feet moving smoothly across the snow. He tries to speed up but he's afraid of the black ice, doesn't want Louis to fall either.

“Slow down, you keep stepping into the puddles,” Harry tells him just in case Louis doesn't mean to.

“Aren't you cold? If you walk faster, we'll get to your place sooner,” Louis urges him, “my socks are already wet so I don't mind the puddles.”

 “Louis the water is cold,” he blanches, “you'll get sick. I'm just around the corner.”

 “Oh,” Louis mumbles under his breath, he slows down, “you live pretty close.”

 "Yeah, that's how I found your café. I've been putting off rent for a while,” Harry smiles at him because he's happy he can say that. He didn't break, hasn't asked his parents for a sum of money just handled his own issues like an adult.

“And your landlord hasn't threatened to kick you out? Maybe you should ask your parents for a little bit of help?”

“Nah,” Harry shrugs his shoulders, “I don't want their help. I've got it.” Harry slowly stops in from of his building complex. “Alright, I guess this’ where we part ways.”

“No fucking _way_ ,” Louis whispers when they stop in front of Harry's apartment. His window is the only on with a glowing snowman and tree he kind of wishes more of his neighbors were more festive.

 "What?" Harry asks him. Louis’ smiling a little, looks at Harry with a twinkle in his eye.

 “This’ where Zayn lives. You've probably seen him around, tattoos on his arms, black hair and really quiet?”

 Harry rakes his brain for someone who may fit that very vague description. He comes up blank until- “Oh! Does he listen to Green Day?”

“Oh my god,” Louis moans, “he's been a right ass with the music if the phone calls are anything to go by. Sorry about that, he's going through stuff.”

“Yeah, the whole Liam thing,” Harry ducks his head before continuing, “now I feel like a right ass.”

 “Why?” They're sitting on the steps on Harry's apartment now. Harry cleared some snow off of them and Louis’ sitting on his hands because the stone’s too cold. 

"I didn't know he was your Zayn and I was kind of frustrated with the whole music thing so I asked him to turn it down but he was so rude so I was rude back. Do you reckon he's the type to hold grudges?”

 Laughing, Louis gets out a, “I don't know, probably not. He's usually calmer than how he's been acting lately.”

“I'll probably bring him some pastries tomorrow and apologize. Or apologize tonight if he's even up.” 

“Whatever you want mate. Anyway, it's pretty late I should start heading home,” Louis gets up and Harry kind of misses the heat of their thighs pressed together. They've only just sat down so he follows suit before asking.

“D’you wanna come upstairs and watch some movies or something? I'd feel horrible sending you off to walk all by yourself at this time.” It's not that late, Harry knows. The latest it can be is half past ten but he really doesn't want to say goodbye just yet.

“I really shouldn't. I have to feed Delilah in the morning and she gets fussy when she doesn't eat right away. Have a good night though, Harry.” 

“Oh, alright then. Stay safe, Lou,” just when Harry's turning around with shaky, numb fingers trying to slot the key in the hole, Louis’ arms are being wrapped around his body.

 “G’night,” he says before he's off and walking down the block. His silhouette is dark next to the melting snow but winter fits on him. Summer does too, he can imagine the sun just loving him like how the lamplights love him now.

 

<•>

 

Louis’ night doesn't go exactly to plan. Delilah, apparently, found his stash of insects he keeps as treats for her. There are earthworms and other insects he doesn't care to know the names of strung across his apartment floor.

“Del,” he gasps when he sees her hiding under the couch with two worms hanging from her little snout, “look what you've done.”

The hedgehog isn't fazed by his whining, though. She chews slowly as he takes off his coat and flicks his shoes away. Delilah’s lightly squealing from where she's looking up, small eyes staring at him like she's expecting him to take the food out of her mouth. 

“I'm not cleaning this mess,” he tells her, “it better be gone by tomorrow morning or you're having lettuce for a whole month.”

Louis lugs himself to his room, hears the tapping of Del’s nails on the floor.

 “Nuh-uh, you've made a mess no cuddles for you.” He takes off his shirt, then his pants that have a harder time of taking off then they did when he put them on this morning. They've left angry red marks across his hip bones.

 The persistent nudging is enough for Louis to scoop his pet in his hands and kiss her nose. She tries to bite at him but her teeth aren't sharp enough so he does it again until she rolls into herself stubbornly.

“Alright, alright,” he laughs, “calm down it's not that annoying is it?”

  
Her answer is a mix between a squeal and a huff.

 

***

Louis normally wakes up with his alarm blaring and occasionally, a call from Liam telling him he's running late. This morning is neither.

All he hears is loud squeaking and something nudging against his rib insistently. Delilah is usually curled up in a ball of her own when he wakes up, doesn't even complain as he's shuffling around the house to get ready for work. He tries to still her with a gentle pet across her back but it irritates her even more if the way she gets louder is any indication.  
  
“Baby what's wrong?” He coos as he picks her up. She just keeps making this agonizing sound that makes him pout and think something might be wrong. Maybe she's caught a sickness? He should take her to the vet but the vet is at least one town over and he's got no car. Liam's car was recently towed, Zayn doesn't even have his driver’s license and that's as far as his circle of people willing to do favors for him goes. _Unless_.

He picks his hedgehog up on his shoulder as he brings his phone out and searches for a Harry, dials when he sees the name. The line only rings two times before a groggy voice is picking up.

 “G’morning,” Harry mutters. Louis has half a mind to feel guilty for waking him up so early but it's an emergency so. His eyes catch on the 4:37 am on the top of the screen but again, an emergency is an emergency.

“I'm so sorry for waking you, really I am. But Delilah’s making really loud noises that I've never heard before and I think something's wrong with her?”

“Have you tried Google?” There's a lot of shuffling on Harry's part and then soft curses like he's dropped something.

“I think I should see a veterinarian or something,” Louis tells him as Del yells loudly, “but I don't have a car.”

“That noise definitely doesn't sound like something I've ever heard, I don't have a car though,” Harry tells him and Louis groans in frustration.

“Hey, we can call a taxi or something. I know a service that works 24/7. I'll be at yours soon just text me your address, alright?”

 

All Louis is thinking is that he can always just find his own cab service working all throughout the night. That he can just travel a town over by himself or just ring Liam to take him. He's pretty sure Danielle has a car or something.  
  
In the end, he texts Harry his address and starts to swaddle his hedgehog in a heap of old shirts and two socks for a hat so she doesn't get anymore sick. He's downstairs waiting for the cab to pull up before it's even passed fifteen minutes.

The cab parks in front of him less than five minutes of him waiting, showcasing a very sleepy looking Harry Styles dressed in reindeer pajama pants and thick Timberlands.

His hair’s flat in some places and curly in others but he smiles at Louis when he opens the door, sits on the window side.  
  
“Where’s Delilah?”

“Oh, she's in my coat because she's really sensitive to the cold. She’ll start yelling again if I don't take her out soon though,” he unzips his coat just enough for her to stick her head up, look around curiously before groaning all over again.

“Shh, you'll be fine,” he mumbles, looks back at Harry. His eyes are wide as he takes in the small creature, fingers twitching at his side likes he's not sure touching is allowed. “You can touch her if you want. She'll probably go back in my coat because you're not familiar but go for it.”

“I was thinking you were talking about a dog this whole time,” Harry tells him. The driver’s not even slowing down when they pass speed bumps and Louis wonders what Harry told him in order to speed it along.

“Sorry for waking you up so early,” he apologizes. Harry's hand gently nudges against his neck with every stroke of his hand against Delilah’s fur. She's basking in the attention while simultaneously complaining about feeling ill.

“It's really no problem,” Harry reassures as he unlocks his phone, “I would've been up in two hours anyway.”

Louis smiles a little, tired but still really pretty with his sharp teeth poking through.

“The nearest veterinarian is actually a town over which is kind of ridiculous. What if it had been an emergency? We should petition to have one built near us.” Harry rambles just to talk over to low whine coming from the hedgehog.

“The one near us just recently closed,” Louis tells him, “not enough people visited it so they closed down.” Delilah stops her making loud noises when Louis’ fingers cup her from the bottom and scratch lightly at her sides.

 There's something really calming at the way he pets her, smiles sincerely down at her until her pointy little nose is nudging against his cheek. 

“That's so fucking cute,” he blurts out

 

<•>

 

The doctor had told Louis it was nothing to worry about, that hedgehogs get stomach aches when they've eaten a lot. Louis had confessed that the night before, Delilah had found his stash of her snacks and devoured them.

He sees Louis flush with relief as the doctor hands him his hedgehog back, tells him he should just be more careful. Delilah is looking a lot better, too. When she climbs across to Harry when Louis sits down, her nose is wet and healthy. He cops at her as Louis talks to the doctor some more.

 "Do you know of any taxi services around here?" Harry hears Louis ask. His voice flits through the room all light and airy.

 "Snow storm warning," the woman responds as Harry looks up, she shrugs her shoulders, "I'm afraid they're all down at the moment."

 "Not even one? They can't all be closed tonight," Louis sounds tired and disbelieving with a mix of something Harry can't identify. He cuddled the pet to his chest as he goes to stand beside Louis.

"S'alright, I think I saw a motel just down the street on the way here," he tells him, then turns to the woman with a kind smile, "thank you ma'am for everything."

"No problem," she assures. Her lipstick is smudged at the corners and concealer breaking way to reveal faint blue under her eyelids like she hasn't slept in days. That's probably the case, Harry remembers his mother's late shifts growing up. How she'd come come smelling like alcohol pads and disinfectants.

With one last smile, Harry talked hold of Louis' hand and drags him to their coats.

"I don't wanna walk in that," Louis tells him as he shrugs his coat on, "how far away is it?"

 "Just down the block, promise." He keeps Delilah in his hand as he puts his other hand through one sleeve, then rotates. "Can I hold her in my coat?"

 Louis looks at Harry with a small smile when he asks, sees his hedgehog coddled to his chest and nods.

 "Alright," he tells him, "she bites when she wants to go back outside, just a fair warning. Don't take her out though, she'll get sick."

When Harry says okay, they continue to button up and walk down the corridor. In most of the rooms Harry peers into, he sees animals ranging from dogs to lizards. All he can hear is the tentative steps of Their steps, trying to remember which way they came in.

They eventually find a familiar heavy door and when Louis shoves it open, the cold seeps in all at once. The sky's gotten lighter but broodier with thick clouds. It hasn't snowed heavily yet but he can feel it coming, feels how biting the chill is against his exposed skin.

 Harry takes hold of Louis' arms so they can walk at the paste because he knows Louis will just leave him behind. He tries to slow them down and take in the pretty Christmas lights this quaint town has strung themselves in. It all looks so pretty with not a house without decorations.

Louis seems to be in a rush when he says into the air, "Now is not the time for strolling, Harry." He talked hold of his hand to speed the along. They don't have gloves on so Harry's not expecting warm hands to encompass his but there are. Louis' palm his warm with cold fingertips that make him seem more real somehow.

"But look how pretty the lights look," he urges as he feels nipping at his chest. He unzips the collar of his coat just a little.

"Very nice," he hears agreement, "I think I may be able to appreciate it more if I wasn't freezing my bollocks off."  
  
The small houses start receding after a while, empty parks begin to come into view until they spot a seedy looking motel. The lights shine bright all except the dull 'L'.

"Here we are," Harry halts his steps in front of the door, debating whether this place is okay or not. Louis has no qualms to question it though, he pulls the door open and rolls his eyes at Harry just standing there.

"Come _on_ ," Louis yanks him into the warm building.

There's a woman standing on the farthest back wall scrolling through his phone. She looks up at the commotion, smiles brightly.

"I wasn't expecting anymore customers," she admits, "car broke down or somethin'?"

"Not quite," Louis smiles as he approaches, "may we book a two-bed room?" Harry walks over to them as he unzips his coat to finally stop the insistent biting.

"Yeah, of course," she taps something onto her computer, blonde hair tickling her neck. She brushes it away. "Can you do with a one-bed room. A lot of families checked in earlier today so we don't have many options."

Louis swivels to Harry with a quirked eyebrow, eyes assessing him, "What do you want to do?"

 "I mean, we don't have much of a choice. It's not like we can just walk somewhere else?"

 Louis smiles at the offhand remark, turns to the woman and tells her they'll take it.

"The beds are kind of big so space won't be a problem," when she's done typing, Harry hands her his card in return for the key. She tells them the floor and door number, sends them on their way

 

***

 

The bed isn't even that big, they come to discover. The room looks like it's been lived in for twenty years plus some more but Louis is dead on his feet so Harry doesn't complain. He puts the animal on the bed before removing his shirt and then his jeans, Louis takes off his jeans only.

Harry knew Louis' thighs were thick and muscular but they're so smooth, too. They contract when he goes on his knees on the bed to pick up Delilah. She goes straight to his neck when he lies down making him look small and inviting.

"You have tattoos?" Louis asks him, eyes trained on the big moth on his belly.

"Got them a while ago," Harry tells him, "I think I saw some ink on your collarbones, what does it say?"

 Louis brings his shirt collar down so Harry can read the words out loud. They're scribbled in script that rises where Louis collarbones dent up.

"What does it mean?"

 "I think it's kind of self explanatory," he mumbles when he stuffs his head against the pillow, "we can't keep worrying about the past."

 Harry's feelings kind of get hurt at the words, he doesn't know why. It's not like he was even a big part of Louis' past but the way he worded it makes him feel like Louis thinks his past was a bad thing. Maybe it was a bad thing to him, Harry knows he hated it.

Slowly, Harry sinks into the blankets next to them. He can't stop looking at the way Louis' eyes flutter closed or the way his mouth hangs open just a little.

"Stop staring and go to bed," Louis smiles as he cracks one eye open.

 "I wasn't," he defends himself, "I was obviously looking at the hedgehog."

"Mhm," is the last thing Harry hears before Louis' scooting a little closer to him that they exchange body heat. The soft breathing lulls him to sleep eventually.

 

<•>

 

The first time Harry wakes up, it's so hair ticking his neck and a heavy weight across his chest. He blinks his eyes open and lets them adjust to the bright room. All he sees is white when he opens his eyes and stares out the window. When he looks down, his and Louis' thighs are intertwined. He likes the way their skin looks so close together, the way their sweat is mingling together.

At some point throughout their sleep, Louis had taken off his shirt. Harry tries to remember the little tattoos on his arm. Tries to conjure up a story as to why Louis would want to immortalize a stick figure on himself. He closes his eyes and falls back asleep before he can.

"Hey," Harry whispers when he's woken up for the second time today, "Louis, wake up."

The light streaming from the window is dull like it's about to snow again if it's not already. He absently runs his fingers through the prickly fur of Delilah who chose to move right on his chest. She makes the cutest sounds he's ever heard, cute enough to rival Louis' small huffs.

 Louis' hair sticks to the pillow he's drooling on like he'd been shuffling in his sleep enough to make his hair go static.

"Louis," Harry tries again, "I think we're stuck in the middle of a snow storm."

Slowly, Louis stretches out his body before letting out a grown that makes Harry's eyes go wide. It's the nicest sound yet, startles little Delilah's up. Her nails hurt as she crawls on his bare chest like little rounded needles being jabbed at him. He waits for her to walk herself off of him to sit up in bed, look over at Louis who's eyes look abnormally blue in the morning. They look like electricity lives in them.

"Morning, what were you saying?" Louis asks with a hoarse voice, Adam's apple bobbing as he talks. Harry wants reach up and brush the little hairs off of his forehead, all sweaty strands and keep petting him. He wants to touch his long eyelashes like he'd done when they were little kids and thought putting glitter in them would be a good idea.

Louis had gone home that day with reddened eyes and a smile on his face that made Harry feel guilty. He wasn't even mad like Harry had expected him to be, like anyone else in town would have been.

"I was made for glitter," Louis said before going home, with glitter all across his cheeks and dotting his nose. He even waved with a little smile.  
 

"Earth to Harry," Louis grumbled, hoisting himself up by his elbows so he can be some-what at eye level. "You know, I still can't get over the fact that you've got tattoos."  
  
"I mean, so do you? I think you've got more than me," Harry says as he ducks his head and runs his fingers across Louis' inked skin, "one," jab, "two," jab, "three-".  
  
Louis squeaks every time Harry curls his fingers, huffs and tries to get away. "Stop tickling me," he laughs as he makes to grab Harry's hand to stop him. Harry takes his other to grab his wrists and continue his counting with light tickles that make Louis all breathy beside him.

"Stop it," Louis drags the syllables, "I can barely breathe," he words are interrupted by his light laughter that makes Harry want to continue but he stops at twelve.

"Which tattoo means the most to you?" Louis asks. He's looking up at Harry like he's waiting for an honest answer but he can't do that. All he can do is give him a filtered reason, one that won't be so revealing of his past.

"The anchor on my wrist was the first one I got. It's supposed to remind me that nothing keeps a person grounded more than memories and yourself. It reminds me that materialistic things aren't everything. What about you?"

It's abnormally hot in the room with steam fogging up the windows and curling around their skin. Louis' skin is vibrant with a thin sheet of sweat glistening. 

Harry's hand dipped down to brush at Louis' hair on its own accord, tried to pull away when he realized what he was doing.

"Sorry."

"It's fine. S’kinda relaxing,” he says which only spurs harry to twine his fingers through the damp strands, massage his scalp. His hair’s abnormally soft like he just washed it and conditioned it days ago. A part of Harry wants to lean down and get a whiff, see if it smells as good as it looks but the part recognizes how weird that it so he stays put. Hums to a Christmas tune that Louis groans at 

“What's your favorite tattoo, Louis,” Harry mumbles when he's no longer distracted by the way Louis’ hair curls at the nape of his neck.

“I quite like the Far Away one,” Louis lifts his right arm to display his inner bicep. His skin, smooth and splattered with the words, “when I was younger, my mom and I would travel to different places. I mean, like, from London to Doncaster to Manchester. Money was always an issue,” he smiles at that, taps Harry's wrist with the ankle tattoo.

“I hated it as a child because I could never really stay long enough to make lifetime friends, met a lot of cool kids but couldn't stay so what was the point, you know? Anyway, the point of the tat is that there are pieces of me everywhere I've been and even though they're far away, they're still me. All the people I've met, they're a part of me no matter how far.”

“Even the bad ones, do you reckon?” Harry wants to know, wonders if he's one of the bad memories or one of them that made Louis want to stay. He kind of wants to stay. 

Louis looks thoughtful for a second, then nods, “yeah, I suppose. We’ve got to learn what we hate in a person to not become that, I guess. I knew this one kid who used to bully the shit out of everyone. Twelve year olds can be cruel, this kid did it all. From wet-willys to ripping homework assignments right before classes started. He'd find peoples’ weaknesses and just exploit them. He kind of taught me not to be a dick.”

 Harry the way Louis’ scalp feels under his fingertips. Loves the way the strands feel in his hand and the way Louis’ mouth curves over the words. The way his tongue flicks to wet his chapped lips like that's going to work (it's not, Harry wants to tell him that but it's a really nice sight to see).

“I think we’re snowed in,” Louis says drowsily like he's falling asleep all over again, “where's Del?” He gets up to scan the room, laughs when he sees her on the foot of the bed next to Harry's socked feet.

“Maybe there’re activities we can do in doors while we’re here. I think I saw an arts and craft brochure downstairs when we checked in,” Harry gets up from the bed, lets the covers pool off of him. He stretches first before walking to the bathroom, spares one glance at Louis lying in bed staring at the window like he's never seen so much snow in his life.

“They only gave us one toothbrush so someone’s got to use their finger,” Harry announces when he steps into the bathroom. The shower is absolutely disgusting with clumps of hair sticking to the wall and shower curtain grim with dirt.

“I don't mind sharing,” Louis calls. He's shuffling in the next room, probably gathering his clothes. Harry hurried up with brushing his teeth than wets his hair a little so he flatten it out just a bit. His hair got unfairly frizzy after he'd just been sleeping and he really wasn't trying to embarrass himself in front of him.

When he realized the water mixed with the steam in the room is only making his hair frizzed, he gives up. Maybe he can borrow Louis’ beanie.

 When he walks out, Louis’ sitting at the foot of the bed dressed with shoes and all. He gets up when he sees Harry, sidesteps him to get to the bathroom.

 “Gotta pee,” he says as he closes the door. Not seeing Louis makes Delilah anxious apparently because she begins to run to each end of the bed like she's constructing an escape plan.

 “Hey, calm down,” Harry soothes as he sits beside her, “you're looking a lot better than you did yesterday. Look at how cute you are,” his voice gets squeakier the more he talks. He couldn't help it, he'd never met any kind of animal besides the strays he saw in the streets. His parents despises animals, thought they were useless.

 Delilah nudges her head to his lap until he picks her up. She nibbles on his fingertips, her tongue flicking out like she wants to eat them. He laughs at her while curling his palm around her like he'd seen Louis do it earlier.

 “I guess all cute things need to stick together, huh? Can I be a part of yours and Louis’ exclusive cute club. I'll try my best to not lag you guys,” Harry coos.

 “Am I interrupting something? I mean, if it were up to me, I'd totally let you join the Cute Club but I'm afraid Delilah is the head leader so it's up to her,” Louis sighs wistfully, “now come on, I was promised arts and crafts which means glitter so let's get a move on.”

 “Naturally.” Harry smiles fondly at him, gets up to meet Louis at the door. “You were made for glitter.”

The words are out of his mouth before he can stop them. He sees Louis still and watches the way his eyebrows furrow. It's like he's trying to recall something that's a lost cause, kind of makes harry pout.

“Come on,” Harry says instead, grabs Louis wrist to pull him out the door.

“I,” Louis says proudly with a bright smile as they stand in the elevator waiting for it to stop at the lobby, “was _totally_ made for glitter.”

 

<•>

 

The original plan was to do arts and crafts, possibly flick some glitter into Louis’ hair while he's not looking. What actually goes down is actually very different.

No one over eighteen is allowed in the room unless they've volunteered to help the kids who actually showed up. Harry marginally feel disappointed but Louis. Louis is a whole level of disappointed with the way he crosses his arms and pouts. He wouldn't mind helping some kids but Louis really wanted to play with glitter which is something he can't do if he's busy making sure some kid doesn't try to eat glue.

So Harry whispers the closest kid he can reach to walk over to him without entering the room.  
  
“D’you wanna make a quick dollar?” He asks a little boy with a blue Spider-Man shirt. He's got big glasses that devour his face and brown eyes that remind Harry of Liam’s.

 “Depends,” the boy narrows his eyes. And okay, Harry understands how creepy approaching a kid and asking if he'd like money is but Louis’ walked off with an excuse that he's hungry.

 “Of you nick the glitter for me, I'll give you a dollar.”

 “Five dollars,” the boy urges with a quirked up eyebrow.

 Harry’s face scrunched up in disbelief, “Absolutely not. Two dollars, take it or leave it.”

 “Fine,” the boy reasons. He turns on his heel and disappear for a moment. When he emerges, he's carrying a container of blue glitter. It glistens when hits the light and it makes harry giddy just thinking about it on Louis. He takes out a five dollar bill and hands it to the boy as he takes the container.

“Thank you very much,” Harry smiles, “don't tell your mum, alright?”

“She'd freak out if I took money from a stranger, no thanks.”

“Okay, goodbye,” with one last wave, Harry goes in search of Louis. It takes sometime but he eventually finds him sitting in the buffet section with a plate of tatter-tots and eggs with pancakes.

When Harry approaches, Louis offers him a syrup-glistening smile.

“I've been looking everywhere for you,” he complains as he sets across him. Louis squints his eyes at him.

“I told you I was hungry. Do you want some food? It was free because of the snow storm.”

Harry shakes his head as he brings the glitter up to the table. Louis hops off of his seat to grab at it with his sticky fingers but harry pulls it away.

“When we get back to our room we can take it out. But we can't take it out now because it's stolen. Hurry up and eat,” Harry tells him, then he gets an idea, “actually, lets just fill a plate with food and bring it up. Enough for lunch and dinner so we can just camp out up there?”

 “You're full of bright ideas, Harry Styles,” Louis gets up and scrambles to get another large plate. He fills it up until one of the employees threaten to tame the plate away from him.

Silently, they walk into the elevator and press the button to their floor. The carpet has dark stains on it and dirty greasy walls but they're still smiling at each other, still anticipating the rest of the day. The storm is expected to end by noon and Harry really wants to make this day count. 

When the elevator doors open, Louis dashes down the hall and puts the room key into the door. The second they walk, Louis’ turning to Harry with his hands wide open.

“Okay, so we can put the glitter on each other. I was thinking for you, maybe on your collarbones and above the eyebrow. I would put it on your eyelids but that's too close to the eyes and I don't need to experience bad decisions twice.”

Harry chokes on a breath at Louis’ last words because surely that means he remembers.

“What happened the first time?”

“Got glitter in my eyes, went home with irritated eyes. My mom thought I'd got in a fight, laughed when I told her what actually happened.”

Harry takes the container out from where he hid it in his shirt. Once it's out, Louis takes hold of it, gets his hands dirty with it as he twists the cap open. 

He orders Harry to sit on the bed and keep Delilah company as he gets to work. He takes his shirt off so Louis has more to work with and because it's so hot that he feels sweat pooling in the dip of his collarbones and on his lower back.

Louis dips his fingers in the glitter and spreads along Harry's hairline. Harry feels soft fingertips trail along his jawline. Louis’ fingers are cold but when his palm brushes against his nose, it's warm. He kind of wants to nuzzle in it.

“The blue looks really nice with your bone structure,” Louis hums to him. He drags his tips to the slope of Harry's nose until specks of it fall to his nostrils and make him snuggle lightly.

“Am I model material yet?” Harry jokes with a small smile so he doesn't disturb Louis’ work.

“It's going to be difficult, but you'll get there,” Louis says in mock exasperation.

Harry opens his eyes just to shove lightly at him, “shut up. Is it my turn yet?”

“No, not yet,” Louis answers as he puts more glitter on his fingers and drags them along Harry’s Adam's apple. It makes him gulp with Louis’ fingers pressed there it kind of hurts. Louis hums.

From his neck, he drags the glitter down to circle around one peck. It makes Harry shiver as he repeats the same movement to the other. For a second, the cold is gone but then it returns right on his belly. Dragging up, up, up until it stops right at the center of his chest.

“Alright,” Louis tells him, “I'm finally done. You are well equipped to become the best model that ever existed. Don't forget who made you now.”

When Harry opens his eyes, Louis’ cheeks are tinted pink and he's biting his lip like he's trying to suppress a laugh.

“What'd you do?”

“I'm offended that you'd think I did anything at all. Here,” Louis hands him the glitter with his shining hands. Some have fallen on his lap.

 “Can you take your shirt off?” Louis shrugs before pulling his white shirt off. It leaves him with a bare chest and Harry's hands that are just way too excited to touch. He sticks his fingers through the glitter and drags it across his collarbones. The bone under his tips feels sturdy and real, with hot skin he wants to kiss.

Harry gets more glitter and spreads it on his shoulder blades. He feels Louis’ muscles contract and repeats it just to feel it again. His fingers skim down his chest, catch on a nipple unintentionally. When Louis whines just a little Harry's eyes widen.

“Sorry, sorry,” he rushes, “didn't mean to, sorry.”

“It- It’s fine, Haz,” Louis assures. Harry ignores the flush that's probably taken over his face to continue down until his palm stops at Louis’ stomach. It flutters beneath his touch. 

When Harry gets more glitter, he brings it to Louis’ cheekbones. Outlines them beautifully. They're so sharp already, Harry adds more just to define them more. Lastly, he goes over right under his eyes. Not touching them just where his bags would end if Louis had any.

“All done,” Harry announces. He likes the way the grainy glitter feels underneath his fingernails. The way Louis’ eyes look brighter with the blue bringing them out.

Louis gets up from the bed before grabbing hold of Harry's hand. He drags him to the mirror with a small laugh falling from his mouth.

Once Harry deciphers what the lines on his stomach are, he bursts out laughing. The laugh falls from his mouth before he tamp it down with his hand which only makes Louis laugh harder.

“I really like yours,” he says.

“Talk about oral fixation,” Harry gasps out, “you're what Freud’s been talking about this whole time. Really, Louis? Here I was, making a real masterpiece out of you and you've gone and drawn yourself a big dick across my chest and stomach.”

 They’re breathless by the time they stop giggling. Louis flutters his eyes when he sees what Harry did to him.

 “Do you think it's possible to make glitter permanent on skin?”

 “You'd probably get a lot of infections.”

 Louis leans closer to the mirror and touches the glitter littering his cheekbones. His eyes look so much brighter like Harry's about to get electrocuted if he stares for too long.

“It looks really nice on you,” Harry tells him, “really nice on you.”

 

<•>

 

The snow storm ended a while ago and so customers were allowed to leave. Louis and Harry had gathered their things and stepped out into the six inches of snow. Louis had kept falling is the thing so Harry had to hold him up over his back and piggy back him to a clearing. Very little parts of the sidewalk had been shoveled hence why Harry was standing in almost knee-deep snow with his thumb out in hopes to hail a cab with Louis clinging to his hips. 

“You have to move closer to the road,” Louis insists right at his ear, his chin resting against Harry's shoulder blades. His hair tickles Harry's neck.

“Then the cars that pass will splash me,” he tells him, “I don't want to get hypothermia.”

“I don't know. I think it's be an honor to die the way Edgar Aileen Poe died. Come on, just a little closer.” Harry scoots just a little closer to the side of the road, feels Delilah nip at his chest from where she's zipped up in his coat. Louis told him to not let her out no matter how much of a fuss she puts on. Harry left the top open for her to breathe so she's just being stubborn because she wants to see outside. 

“Really, he died from hypothermia? I've always though he died from something more mysterious like bones miraculously deteriorating.”

Louis huffs but hops off of Harry when he sees a car from the distance. Harry can't feel his face, just a vague throbbing.

“Taxi,” Louis yells as he sees the car speeding down the road. The driver is a burly old man with a thick scarf across his neck and the windows down. It all looks very suspicious when he pulls up in front of them and smiles. 

“Do ya’ll need a ride somewhere? I'm headed west where are ya’ll goin’?”

“ West,” Louis tells the man, “can you maybe drive us as far as you can? It's absolutely terrible out here.”

“Of course, get on in.”

 

<•>

 

When Harry gets home, Louis having been dropped off minutes ago, he feels refreshed. Being in his company for so long has done something to him- feeling of guilt for not telling him of when they first met and then giddiness for having been lucky enough to not be deprived of his company any longer.

<•>

 

It's Christmas Eve and the Art Bean Café is filled with people Harry doesn't know and the doors are closed to strangers so it's kind of exclusive if you'd ask him. At first, Harry was sitting by himself with his warm tea but now his tea’s gone cold and he can see Louis walking towards him amidst the whole crowd. He sits himself to the chair closest to him with glazed over eyes and flushed pink cheeks.

“Okay, so right there,” Louis’ pointing to this man with brunette hair and blue eyes, “is Niall and he's been dating that one,” he finishes with his nimble fingers pointing to a girl with black hair.

“Okay?”

“And that's Liam right there. You probably can't see him with the way Zayn is sucking his face.” Harry smiles at that because they do look happier now. They've been cuddled up in the corner most of the party eating deviled eggs and drinking alcohol from the same pitcher.

“Why're you sitting all by yourself, why don't you come and meet my other friends. I'll tell them to leave the pestering to a minimum but they're kind of drunk off eggnog so that probably won't last very long.” As he gets up, he swings his arms around Harry's and starts to pull. He's not very strong but they move together through the crowd until he's being shoved into a booth

with Louis blocking him. The table’s sticky and the seats are uncomfortable but the way Louis is smiling is so nice he doesn't even mind.

The table is filled with people he's never met except for Danielle and Grimshaw. They all introduce themselves in a flurry, he tries to put faces to the names being called but all he can hear are James, Jan, Michael, until their all blurred and someone is talking to him.

“Oh,” a man with a quiff to rival Nick’s says in surprise, “we're in the company of Harry Twist what a pleasure! I'm guessing drinks are all on you?”

Harry nearly sprains his neck to look at him wide-eyed. His fingers tingle where they're lying against his thighs, he tries not to look to his left where he knows Louis’ probably looking at him some kind of way. He can already feel how still he's being.

“No,” Danielle argues, “that's Harry _Styles_. He's one of our new workers.”

The man’s persistent as he shakes his head, “Look him up, that's him. It's the same green eyes and curly hair,” he says as his voice gets slurred at the end. Harry can blame it all on him being drunk but he feels Louis turn to him fully. 

“Can you move over real quick,” Harry asks Louis without looking at him. Louis, apparently isn't having it tonight. He's too close for Harry not to look at, steady hard eyes locked to him. His lips are set downward. 

“Twist? As in the Twist family I used to live next to?” 

"Yeah," Harry admits, “but I didn't come down here with the main goal of finding you or something. It just happened?”

“But you knew who I was and you didn't say anything,” he argues back. It's strange seeing Louis’ eyes so foggy but set, like he's looking at a painting being doused in water- lines still there but not sharp enough.

“I didn't think it'd matter to you that much,” he defends back, “we barely knew each other to fill a year.”

“So it didn't matter? And if it had been two years? What about five? When does it start mattering?”

He's speaking but his lips are barely moving through the vowels. 

"I'm sorry?” Harry's voice lilts like he's asking a question. He doesn't have time to take it back, be more assertive before a voice disrupts them from a distance. 

“It's about that time,” Liam is shouting above all the chatter, “to hit the road. We’re all out of liquor and socializing. Don't ask me for your keys back if you're even a little bit drunk, I'll be dialing cabs if you need one.” He's sweeping a spilt bag of chips as he says it, pairs of keys jingling from his belt hoops as he moves. It'd be laughable if he wasn't aware of how quiet Louis’ being next to him.

He gets up before Harry can talk to him, opening the café doors and talking people out of bothering Liam.

Slowly, the crowd starts to dwindle until it's just Liam, Danielle, Louis, Niall, and Zayn cleaning.

 Harry's in charge on cleaning the table tops and seats. Drunk people really act like kids with the way most of the tables are covered in salt grains in the shape of penises.

"Are you guys ready to share your Secret Santas? This’ the first time we've ever done this and not mess it all up, I'm very proud,” Liam says, but he's smiling at Harry like he doesn't know how to keep a secret.

Louis’ unplugging and rolling up the Christmas lights. When Harry asks him why he's putting them away on Christmas Eve, he says it's bad luck to have Christmas decorations up on Christmas Day. He doesn't quite understand the logic but he's happy Louis is still talking to him. Even if he is just being curt.

Niall s taken to wiping down the windows but he's been cleaning the same window for the past ten minutes Harry's beginning to question if he'd been cleaning at all

 “I wanna go first,” Zayn says. “I didn't really participate because of reasons,” he chuckles, “which, I’m sorry about that, Harry I was really rude that night. But I still got you all a gift.”

 He goes over to the counter to take out his bag. When he unzips it, colorful sweaters flood out that Zayn throws to everyone. Niall gets a light blue that really makes his eyes look really bright, Liam gets a light brown one with a Christmas tree on it.

Louis gets overly excited when he puts his red and green one with a ‘ _Merry Christmas You Filthy Animal’_ print on it. Danielle’s is a pretty white one with a snowman. It looks so soft and warm that Harry's planning on bribing it off of her if Zayn didn't hand him a green one with a Santa on it with rosy cheeks. They're all so pretty he doesn't even think before hauling Zayn into a hug and thanking him.

 “I love it, thanks,” he tells him while everyone mumbles their own variation.

“Alright, who was Louis’ secret Santa?” Danielle asks. She's standing by the pile of dishes in the sink she accumulated with the help of Zayn.

 Harry raises his hand slowly, feels Louis’ eyes on him.

“Explain why you got him a bottle of honey and a pendant,” Niall says as they all pull out a chair from the round table. Harry scratches his arm too hard by mistake, winces when it starts to sting.

“Well you all said it's all about meaning so I tried to put meaning into all the gifts. Like, when we were younger, me and Lou, he wanted to try honey for the first time and hated it. He spit it out all over his hands, it was really gross but kinda cute? I don't know, it was one of my favorite childhood memories. And Louis used to wear an airplane pendant. I never saw him without it every time we'd meet up so when I saw an airplane necklace that looked kind of like it, it made sense to get it for him since he gave me his. Before he left town, he gave it to me and I remember he was kind of sad about parting with it but I was really selfish because I wanted something of his to remember him by.

“There weren't a lot of kids where we grew up, everyone was too mean and Louis moving in near me was a godsend. He was really funny and wasn't afraid to embarrass himself and I just really enjoyed your company,” Harry says looking at Louis, “and by giving you those gifts, I guess I just thought I'd jog your memory somehow. I didn't mean to make it seem like I didn't want to tell you. To be honest, I was kind of afraid to tell you. After I was old enough to move out, I didn't want anything tying me to my family and their money so I changed my last name and moved here which just so happened to land me here.”

When he's finally, _finally_ done talking, it's like a weight’s been lifted off his shoulders. Louis’ staring at him like he's grown a second eye and as he looks around the table, everyone looks really shocked except for Liam who’s the first to talk.

“That was really sweet, Harry,” he says and the rest nod. Louis gets up though, takes his scarf with him. His figure disappears when the door closes and he's not sure if he should follow or not.

“Go talk to him,” Zayn urges, “tell him to at least put a coat on before he goes out there, too.”

Harry grab’s Louis’ coat he'd hung on the back of his chair as he shrugs on his own. He's genuinely confused, can't imagine this whole situation upsetting Louis so much. It'd been less than a year and all they'd done was stupid, children stuff.

When he walks outside, snow breezing past him, tangling his hair together. He pulls up his hoodie but it only falls back down so he gives up, sees Louis across the street just staring back at him. He's rubbing his arms for some heat, nose and cheeks red.

“Here,” Harry hands him his coat when he's crossed the street.

 “Out of all the friends I've met in my life, you were my favorite,” Louis pushes out through chattering teeth as he pulls up his coat over his shoulders.

"And it's because you were simple even when my mom told me not to talk to you guys. She's say your family was stuck-up and money savvy but you proved her wrong. Not once did you bring up your family, or the things you had.”

“I still don't,” Harry defends, “and my family was fine. We didn't buy things for the hell of it, we donated to charities and research and-,”

“I'm not attacking your family,” Louis cuts him off. He moves a little closer and Harry kind of wants to lean in a little, “just want you to know it did matter.”

First, Harry's looking at the moon barely shining through the mess of snow. Then he's feeling cold fingers on his cheek, around his neck and he's shivering. When he drags his eyes down, Louis’ a lot closer with his pink dry lips that twitch in a smile.

He's not sure who initiates what when they finally kiss. It burns from the cold but Louis’’ tongue slips in his mouth like he likes it so Harry follows his lead until his lungs feel like they're about to collapse.

All he hears is Louis gasping in front of him so he pulls him back for another. Than some more because it feels familiar somehow.

“Happy Birthday.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading it & again to princeandcheekbones i really hope i did the prompt justice  
> have a happy holiday peeps


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